The Will
by AJCrane
Summary: Tim Drake has been orphaned. He must face his father's funeral and what happens after. Will CPS take Tim Drake or will someone else intervene? And what is written in the will his father left behind? This is a one shot.


_**A/N: A Tim Drake Story: Tim is 15 and Dick is 20. This takes place a few days after my "I've Got You story." I was going to put this in my Bat Shorts, but felt it deserved to stand on it's own. I've added a few more nuances to this story since when I finished writing it, it was late at night and I had to get up early to get my daughter off to school. I wanted to expand a little more on this story, adding pieces of text that gave a little more detail to the story.  
**_

TDTDTDTD

The Will

By

AJ

The funeral of Jacob Lawrence Drake was overwhelmingly attended. Gotham's well to do and not so well to do came out to say goodbye to a man who was well liked and who turned charity on its ear. While others would simply fill out a check as their response to the needy, Jacob Drake delivered what he promised, visiting the countries where the money and supplies were personally delivered by he and his wife, and sometimes his young son. In later years when his son reached his teenage years, Jacob and his wife traveled alone, all while trying to give their son the best education money could buy.

The Eulogy described a man who was loved by many, a brilliant man who helped to shape a company that survived even the toughest economic times, a man who married his childhood sweetheart and left behind a gifted and brilliant son. No one understood why someone like Captain Boomerang would attack him . . . But Tim knew. Captain Boomerang didn't go after Jacob Drake, but had gone after Tim, because he knew Tim's secret identity and of his association with Batman. While the eulogist droned on, Tim continued to think about what had happened. Captain Boomerang wasn't from Gotham City. He was also Flash's enemy, not Batman's. What would bring him to Gotham? Those questions would have to wait to be answered. Before Tim knew it, he was being lead out to a waiting car and the coffin that carried his father's body was being placed in a hearse just ahead. He watched numbly as the driver of his vehicle followed the hearse to the cemetery. The graveside ceremony was a blur. As the crowd dispersed, Tim was barely aware that someone was calling his name.

"Timothy Drake?"

"Huh?" Tim lifted his head up. Sunlight blinded his vision and the person was in shadow.

"My name is Janet Langstrom. I'm with Child Protective Services. I've been told you have no living relatives."

Tim nodded his head slowly.

"I'm to take you with me once you are done here."

"Take me? Take me where?"

"I'm to take you to . . ."

"Bruce, you can't let them take him. Bruce?" Dick stated, overhearing the conversation, but Bruce was talking to someone else. Dick turned toward the woman instead. "You can't take him."

"Excuse me?"

Dick Grayson stepped in between the woman and Tim Drake, "I won't let you take him."

"Excuse me, but I have no choice," Janet Langstrom stated. "It's my job. He has no living relatives and he cannot live by himself. He's a minor."

"He can live with me," Dick stated.

"You don't look old enough . . ."

"I'm 20," Dick replied.

"I'll take him," Bruce Wayne spoke realizing at that moment what his former ward was saying. He had been talking briefly to the minister who performed the ceremony when he suddenly realized Dick was arguing with someone. "I'll take Tim with me."

"I'm sorry Mr. Wayne, but I cannot allow that."

"And why not?"

"Well . . . because . . . because of what happened with the last child in your care."

'She's referring to Jason.' Bruce thought. 'How can I get her to see that what happened wasn't my fault?' He had to say something. "Jason was my son, he died overseas, a victim of a terrorist attack." Before Bruce could explain further another man approached the small group.

"Ms. Langstrom, I am Mr. Matthew Banner, Mr. Drake's lawyer. I'm sorry, I cannot allow you to take Timothy Drake at the moment."

"And why not?"

"Mr. Drake's will. The reading is this afternoon at 3:00 pm."

"What does that have to do with me taking Timothy? Cannot the will be read without him?"

"I have a letter written by Jacob Drake stating that if anything should happen to him, his wife, or both that what is written in the will must be followed to the letter. Timothy Drake must be allowed to hear his father's last will and testament."

"I have never heard of such a thing," Janet Langstrom exclaimed.

"I can show you the letter."

"That's not necessary. I can wait until then. After that, I'm afraid I will have to take Timothy with me."

"Take me? Take me where?" Tim's eyes grew wide and anxious. What was going on?

"Don't worry, Timmy," Dick stated with a frown. "No one is taking you anywhere."

"Master Timothy," Alfred came forward. "It's time to return to the Manor. I have prepared a luncheon for everyone and for anyone who might drop by to express their condolences."

The fog lifted from Tim's brain and he realized it must have been Alfred who drove him. The butler led him back to the car. Bruce and Dick climbed in on either side. He looked at the two as if he hadn't seen them before. Had they been here the whole time? He vaguely remembered someone helping him to dress this morning, even walking him to the car. In fact the last few days had been nothing but a blur.

"Alfred? Who arranged the funeral?" Tim asked.

"Mr. Wayne and Master Richard arranged everything, Master Timothy."

"Why don't I remember?"

"You were in deep shock," Alfred answered. "You nearly became ill and had to be sedated."

"I feel like I'm coming out of a bad dream . . . a nightmare. That woman, what did she want?"

"She wanted to take you to . . . the orphanage," Dick answered with a deep scowl. "I . . . I couldn't let her."

Something in Dick's expression tugged at Tim's heart. He distinctly remembered the day Dick's parents were killed. It was burned into his memory as surely as it was with Dick. A week later, he vaguely remembered the newspaper accounts of Dick being taken in by Bruce Wayne when Dick was eight. What happened in between was a blank space. Dick never told him. Did CPS play a role that he wasn't familiar with? The way Dick pronounced the last word . . . orphanage . . . it was as if it had left a bad taste in Dick's mouth.

"Dick, what happened after you left the circus?" Tim asked.

"I . . . I . . . don't want to talk about it," Dick said.

"Please . . . I really would like to know."

"Tim," Bruce got the younger teen's attention. "What happened was very painful for him. It gave him nightmares for weeks."

"Bruce . . . please," Dick pleaded, shaking his head.

'Tim has to know so he can be prepared," Bruce stated. "Besides, he's older and he's also better trained. You didn't have any training and you were only eight. Plus, I doubt if he would have the same kind of experience that you had."

"Bruce, what are you talking about? What happened to Dick?"

Bruce gave out a sigh and looked toward his son to confirm whether he should be the one to tell Tim what happened. He could see that Dick wasn't going to talk, but gave Bruce a slight nod of his head.

"It's very difficult for Dick to talk about it, even though it happened 12 years ago." Bruce began. "Dick wasn't sent to the orphanage. He was sent to the _Patrick Worthington Memorial Detention Center for Boys."_

"What?" Tim eyes became wide and he looked over at Dick. "But that place is for kids who . . ."

"I know. The person responsible stated there weren't any available beds, which was legal at the time, and only for one night. He was there three."

"What happened while he was there?"

"You really want to go into this?" Dick asked.

"You know the laws have changed since then. It won't be the same."

"I don't care Bruce," Dick argued. "He shouldn't have to go through what I went through."

"Hey, I'm sitting right here," Tim stated.

Dick turned his head to stare out the window.

Bruce gave out a sigh. "Perhaps it's better that we talk later."

"There won't be a later," Dick stated.

"Then tell me what happened. I promise I won't ask, again," Tim stated. "Did something bad happen to you?"

"You could say that. My social worker . . . my former social worker hated me. She treated me like I was some kind of criminal . . . She put me in with an older kid who . . ."

"Dick," Bruce reached over and squeezed his son's shoulder. "You don't have to say anything more."

"Why can't they leave us alone?" Dick questioned.

The ride back to the manor was done in silence. Tim was perplexed, but he also started thinking about what Dick had said. Something terrible had happened to Dick when he was eight while he was supposed to be under CPS's care. Bruce said the laws had changed, but the thought of going with a woman he didn't know to a strange unknown place also didn't set well. Like Bruce and Dick, he was an orphan and there wasn't much he could do about it. The woman didn't want him being with Bruce or Dick and if he did go with the woman what would that mean for his role as Robin? He wanted to ask, but Bruce seemed preoccupied and Dick continued to stare out the window. All Tim could think was, 'What's going to happen to me now?'

When they arrived at the Manor Bruce led them into the formal living room, the one used by guests. The room was ornate and larger than the private living area at the back of the house. There were a few chairs set up near the fireplace and around other areas of the room. Tim noticed near the large windows that a large buffet had been set up laden with food. Despite his emotional state, Tim realized he couldn't remember the last time he had eaten.

"We better grab some food before people arrive," Dick stated.

Tim walked over and filled a plate for himself then sat in a chair near the corner of the buffet. He suddenly didn't want people around. If he could go upstairs to his room . . . well the room that he used while he was here . . .

'No, I'd prefer being down in the bat cave right now,' Tim thought, "But . . ."

He had only eaten half of what was on his plate when the doorbell rang and Alfred was admitting the guests. Bruce was soon pulling him from the corner so people could talk to him and give them their condolences, but most it seemed were hovering around the buffet table once they did what was required. Within minutes Tim lost his appetite, realizing that whatever was being said just didn't feel genuine. Plus thinking about the woman from CPS . . . Tears prickled his eyes as anger rose in him. How dare they come and pretend like nothing was wrong. His father had been murdered and they were acting like this was nothing more than a garden party. And someone a woman he didn't even know wanted to take him away . . . away to some unknown place . . . some orphanage. He wanted to shout . . . to tell people to get out and leave him to his grief . . . but this wasn't his home. It belonged to Bruce. He didn't even know if he even had that right. After an hour, Tim felt like the room was stifling him. He found himself once again in the corner trying to hide as well wisher after well wisher kept coming. After a while they ignored him, leaving him to his grief. Tim buried his face in his hands and wept. It was all too overwhelming and surreal, as if all of it was a bad dream and he was going to wake up at home with his father calling him from breakfast, but deep inside he knew it wasn't a dream and that made it so much harder to face. After several minutes, Tim was barely aware when someone knelt down in front of him.

"Do you want to get some air?" Dick questioned, as he reached up and brushed away a tear that slipped down Tim's face.

Dick's was the first real genuine person who truly focused on his needs at that moment.

"Yeah," Tim stated, stifling a sniffle.

"Besides, it's almost 3:00," Dick said. "The lawyer is waiting in Bruce's study."

Tim looked up to see that the crowd had somewhat thinned. A few faces that he did recognize had stayed. They were in quiet discussion. As he moved to follow Dick, he could feel their eyes upon him. Tim followed Dick out into the hall and down to Bruce's study. Bruce was waiting for them along with Matthew Banner.

"Shall we be seated?"

"You can sit here," Bruce indicated the desk. He moved a chair in front for Tim to sit. "Dick and I will sit back here." Bruce moved to sit near the fire place. They didn't want to intrude, but wanted to be close just in case Tim needed them. Tim could not help notice that Dick and Bruce had been having a conversation that involved him.

"Please, Bruce we can't let her take him."

"You know what you're asking," Bruce answered.

"I know, and you know it's the right thing to do."

Tim wanted to ask about what Bruce and Dick were talking about, but at that moment, the lawyer cleared his throat. Tim sat on the chair waiting for Mr. Banner to begin.

Mr. Banner pulled out an envelope from his suit jacket. He placed it on the desk them pulled out a pair of glasses from inside his shirt.

"I need to clear something up. I just want to say that what is written in this will, even I don't know what it says. Your father specifically had this will drawn up two years ago. I joined the firm of Byrd and Robinson six months ago. They gave me specific instructions that I was to read this particular will. Technically, your father's lawyer was Mr. Richard Byrd, but Mr. Bird couldn't be here. I myself am not a fan of the CPS for my own reasons and if there is anything I can do in regards to them, please let me know. Your father did write the letter specifically stating that if something were to happen, you were to receive whatever was in the will before Child Protective Services intervened. Mr. Byrd dud express to me hat it was your father's wish that the will be read with you present since you are his heir and benefactor. Shall we get started."

Tim listened with as much attention as he could. His father's estate was now his, but would be kept in trust until he turned 21. The person named as trustee though surprised him, but what surprised him more was his father's final instructions.

"I, Jacob Lawrence Drake do hereby give permanent custody of my son to Mr. Bruce Wayne. Enclosed with this will are adoption papers to be signed in front of the lawyer and to be witnessed by whomever Mr. Wayne chooses."

"My father . . . wants Mr. Wayne to . . ."

"Excuse me?" Bruce could not help but overhear.

"It's all legal Mr. Wayne. You are to be given permanent custody of Timothy Jackson Drake. Apparently, Mr. Jacob Drake thought very highly of you in the raising of Richard Grayson. He believed you would make a suitable parent for his son."

"Well, Jake and I have . . . had known each other for many years . . ."

"What is needed is just your signature and a witness."

"Um, Dick could you . . ."

"I'll get Alfred . . ." Dick replied.

"And could you also get Commissioner Gordon as well."

"You mean . . . I don't have to go with . . ."

"With Mr. Wayne's signature, you will officially become his son. I hope it's not too soon."

"No . . . I mean . . . if that's what my father wanted . . ."

"What about Ms. Langstrom?" Bruce asked.

"I think once we conclude here, you'll know what to do."

Within moments, Dick was returning with Alfred and Commissioner Gordon. Tim watched with wide eyes as Bruce signed the adoption papers as well as signed by the two witnesses. Everything suddenly became surreal once again. Within eight hours, Tim had buried his father and became Bruce's son.

"Well, young man, I shall leave you to your new family," Mr. Banner stated.

"Hey, I just realized something," Dick said. "I've got a brother."

"Welcome home, Master Timothy," Alfred said. "I shall arrange to have the rest of your belongings brought to the Manor."

With all that had happened, Tim's knees suddenly buckled. Just as before, strong arms were grabbing him, pulling in.

"I've got you, Son," Bruce said, and this time Tim felt his father's arms around him and knew it was for real.

End


End file.
